


Collectively, Unconsciously Composed

by RemyJane



Series: Collectively, Unconsciously Composed [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Psychic Bond, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemyJane/pseuds/RemyJane
Summary: “Why aren't any of these milk run missions actually easy?” Leonard complained, gently stroking Jim’s arm.  “This was a planet with no civilization or intelligent life at all. We just needed to get some soil samples. It should've been simple as biscuits. Instead, we get this.” He gestured at Jim, hoping it conveyed what he meant, the nightmares and flashbacks and the dredging up of emotional traumas.- - - - -Jim, Leonard, and Spock form a soul bond after a traumatic event. Unsurprisingly, it does not go well at first.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from San Francisco by the Mowglis. 
> 
> References past non-con and child abuse.

Hruglette 6 was a distant planet, though one that Starfleet was considering for a new Starbase. It had an accommodating atmosphere and no civilization. In fact, it had few animals at all; it was mostly inhabited by insects and flying lizard-type creatures. Most notably, the Hruglette fly, which produced a strange reaction in humans. The Enterprise was to send back samples and field notes, so that a full-scale environmental impact study could be conducted. 

Jim decided to accompany Spock, and the begrudging CMO tagged along, complaining that “intelligent life or not, Jim’ll manage to get himself hurt.”

“Whatever, you just want an excuse to stretch your legs.” Jim teased, laughing. 

“I'll stretch my leg kicking my foot up your ass.” Leonard grumbled under his breath. “Most danger-prone person I've ever met, let me tell you.” He said to no one in particular. The rest of the crew knew by then to mostly ignore the doctor’s mutterings, especially when he was talking to the captain. 

The mission went nothing like they’d planned. 

First, Spock was bitten. He experienced nothing more than an uncomfortable sense of nostalgia for something he couldn't quite place. His more human emotions seemed heightened minutely, but he ignored them. They were only emotions, symptoms of something else. 

Next was the doctor. 

He'd been engulfed in memories of his childhood, pulled back in time to the scent of honeysuckle in the thick air and red clay earth in the rain. He described it as pleasant, expression glazed over and distant. He could hear his mother singing; he could hear his father’s voice. 

His eyes grew wet. “I'm seeing things I didn't even consciously remember seeing.” He managed, struggling to focus on their questions. “It's not flashbacks, exactly. It's like a film playing in my mind and when I shut my eyes, it's like I'm there.” Leonard said. He leaned against the smooth trunk of a deep maroon tree, relaxing under the influence of his memories. “My parents are just talking about the weather. My dad’s alive still.”

“You can close your eyes, Bones. It sounds nice. Enjoy it.” Jim said gently, squeezing the doctor’s arm before pulling his sleeves down and walking away to spray on more insect repellent. 

The reaction only lasted a couple hours, fading slowly back to nothing. Leonard noted missing the phenomenon slightly. 

Despite his precautions, the next day Jim too was bitten. He didn't mention it to his companions, he possibly hadn't even noticed; the Hruglette fly was the size of a gnat. 

Spock startled aware from his meditation to the sound of screaming coming from the Captain’s quarters, joined to his through the bathroom. He entered in haste, without knocking. 

Jim was tangled in his bedsheets, sweaty and pale, with tears on his face. He wasn't asleep, not exactly, but appeared to be in a kind of trance. He screamed, face devoid of anything except for abject terror. 

“Captain? Are you alright?” Spock approached slowly. Jim’s gaze snapped to him and he tried to get up, but was tripped by his bedding and would have fallen had Spock not caught him. “Jim?”

Jim buried his face in Spock's chest, holding the Vulcan’s shirt tightly between his fingers, leaving indents in the fabric when he readjusted his grip. 

He sobbed brokenly, sounding crushed and shattered like a fragile figurine. His fear was a tangible thing between them, something that soured the thick air and tainted it. He pleaded for Spock to help him, to make it go away, to make it “Stop, please, god, Spock...I don't want to remember. I don't want- No!” He screamed. 

Spock felt his heart pounding in his side; Jim had told him once about Tarsus IV, weaving a reluctant tale over drinks one night. Though he hadn't said much, Spock could piece together the facts; Jim had been put through something unimaginable, and the scars it left behind hadn't properly healed. 

“I don't want to remember, oh fuck, please make it stop. Spock, please, please, help me! My chest hurts, I can't- I can't breathe, please!” Jim begged as course sobs wracking his lithe frame. Spock was overwhelmed with the flood of emotions rolling off Jim. He managed to open his communicator, paging Dr. McCoy, still on duty after M’Benga had come down with a flu. 

“This better not be a booty call, Spock.” Leonard said, voice husky with exhaustion. 

“Jim was bitten.” He said succinctly. “He may require your assistance.” Spock wondered how much background noise the device transmitted, if Leonard could hear that Jim was in agony. Spock tightened his grip around the human as he suffered. 

“Shit. I'll be right there.” Leonard promised. Spock dropped the communicator and held Jim tighter. 

“Open your eyes.” Spock reminded him. “You are on the Enterprise. You are not alone.” Jim forced his eyes open, searching for Spock’s face. 

“I'm so sorry. Make it stop, just make it stop.” Jim begged. “Spock, I need help. I can't breathe!” His voice splintered, cracking with emotion. Jim was so rarely vulnerable, so rarely asked for anything.

“Allow me to meld with you. Perhaps I can help.” He offered. Jim nodded, his face wet from tears and his nose running. He didn't have the wherewithal to wipe away the mess. Spock raised his hand and pressed his fingers to his meld points, hoping he could help Jim regain control. 

Instead, he was engulfed in white hot terror, searing through their connection. He could see Jim being beaten, the guards torturing the child for information. There was nothing he could do except for watch. He strained against the torrential influx of memories, but nothing changed. 

Spock felt something foreign at the back of his mind, something that was desperately reaching for him. Through the meld, he was helpless as he watched the guards strip the child- Jim- of his clothes and then-

Spock severed the connection. He was not strong enough to stop the flood of memories, and Jim didn't want him to see what happened next. Jim gasped when the connection was terminated, fingers clutching at Spock’s shirt. 

“No, no, no, nonononono.” He pleaded quietly, ragged cries wrenched from him even as he tried to hold back. 

The door opened behind them and Leonard rushed to their side, hands cupping Jim’s cheeks. “Jim, hey, open your eyes. Open your eyes. You’re safe. We've got you.”

Spock was vaguely aware of tears running down his face when he looked up at the doctor, his eyes still watering uncontrollably. Something ached, a sharp pain in his head. He'd never felt such pure human distress before. 

“Spock, are you ok?” Leonard asked. 

“I attempted to meld with the captain, however, I do not believe I can aid him in terminating the pervasive memories.” Spock answered. 

“You shouldn't have done that. The risk of emotional transference-” Leonard was distracted when Jim suddenly struggled to get up, gulping air with the desperation of a near-drowned man. “Where are you trying to go?” He asked. 

“Bones! Please, help me. Make it stop, I'm begging you, please help me.” Jim's eyes were wild with terror. “I can't- this is too much! I can't breathe!” 

“Yes, you can. I'm going to give you something, ok?” He moved to dig through his medical kit, leaving Spock with the captain clinging to him. “A sedative. And I have something that’ll keep you from dreaming.” He gently pressed the hypos into his neck in quick succession. 

Jim sobbed weakly, sedative taking effect and causing him to sag against Spock’s chest. The Vulcan cradled him there, unwilling to release him. 

“Let's get him back to bed.” Leonard decided once he was fully unconscious. Together, they lifted their lover and placed him on the bed. They each laid beside him. Leonard stroked his hair back, using his sleeve to wipe his face dry. 

“Are you ok?” He asked Spock, looking up once Jim had settled. 

“I am unharmed.”

“You're still crying.” Leonard said quietly. Spock frowned, touching his cheeks and finding them to be wet. “So, let's try that again. You ok?”

“I am unharmed.” Leonard furrowed his brow, preparing to launch into a rant. “However, I am...I seem to have been slightly affected by the captain’s distress.” 

“No shit.” Leonard rolled his eyes. “You could cause serious-”

“Leonard, do not assume I did not know the risk when I initiated the meld.” Spock countered sternly. “However, under the circumstances, it was the most logical option.”

Leonard frowned at him but didn't say anything, scanning Jim with his tricorder. “Everything else looks ok...heart rate and respirations are still elevated.”

“That would seem to be explainable.” Spock said. “He has just endured tremendous emotional trauma.”

“But right now, he should be experiencing nothing.” Leonard chewed at his lower lip, scowling at the device in his hands before tossing it aside and manually checking Jim's pulse. “Unless...unless the memories are a completely different phenomenon than dreams.”

Spock felt suddenly sick. “In that case, he is essentially locked in with his memories.”

\---

Jim was screaming, but no one could hear him. He was alone, lost, trapped. Everything was dark, except for flashes of lightning. He was being chased and it was gaining on him. He could feel the static tingling at the back of his neck. 

He screamed for his friends, his lovers, his family, but he was terribly, painfully alone. 

\---

Leonard and Spock didn't sleep the rest of the night, waiting patiently (or not so patiently, in Leonard’s case) for Jim to awaken. Spock monitored his brain activity, checking in every so often, only skimming the surface so as not to expose himself to a higher risk of emotional transference. Jim was seemingly in a state of perpetual nightmares. 

When the younger man finally opened his eyes, he froze, holding his breath. “Is this real?” He asked, voice hoarse from his earlier distress. Leonard jerked, startled, and rubbed at his neck where it ached. Spock stayed totally still beside him as though he had not been surprised. 

“Indeed, Captain.” He answered. “The appropriate window of time has passed. You should be symptom free.” 

“Thank god.” He whispered. “Bones?”

“Right here, kid.” Leonard pressed close to him. “How're you doing?”

Jim paused, considering. “I haven't thought about it in so long.” He confessed. “But now...I remember everything.” He squeezed his eyes shut tight, scrubbing his hands down his face. 

“Captain, if you would find it useful, you can speak to us about the events that transpired this evening. Or, on Tarsus, as the case may be.”

Jim swallowed hard, wincing at the grating rawness of his throat. “It's, uh, it's not just Tarsus.” Leonard and Spock exchanged nervous looks. Neither of them knew what to say. Spock felt an illogical sense of dread, though nothing the Captain said would cause him any physical harm. 

“Jim…” Leonard began. “What else?”

Jim was starting to breathe too fast and his eyes threatened to water over even as he fought to hold himself together. “I didn't exactly have a great childhood, even before Tarsus.” He whispered, voice cracking. 

“Jim, to what are you referring?” Spock asked gently, placing one hand on his arm in a gesture of support. 

“Frank. Frank use to beat the shit out of me.” He ground out, covering his eyes again. Spock looked up to meet Leonard’s gaze, as though trying to suss out if Jim had just used some slang he was unfamiliar with. Surely he couldn't mean...The Vulcan held him closer. 

Leonard had long suspected Jim had been an abused child- the scars, the distrust, the reckless disregard for his personal safety- but hearing the confirmation made his heart hurt for him. Looking up, he realized Spock’s face was soft with emotion, his eyes uncharacteristically unguarded. 

“I don't wanna talk about it.” Jim said. “Can we just try to sleep?”

“Whatever you need, darlin’.” Leonard soothed. 

“I use to- Sometimes…Look, I'll probably have nightmares, so if you don't want to stay-” Jim floundered. 

“I'm not going anywhere.” “If you’ll permit it, I will stay.” Leonard and Spock spoke at the same time. Jim smiled weakly at them, giving a dark chuckle. 

“Consider yourselves warned.” He said, pulling at the covers. Despite his anxiety, Jim was the first to fall asleep. 

“Did you know about the abuse?” Spock asked, once he was sure his captain was asleep. 

“I suspected.” Leonard confessed. “But I thought it was mostly on Tarsus.”

“How common is...do humans often harm their young?” Spock asked. “My mother was exceedingly gentle, even by Vulcan standards. Children are treasured in our culture.”

“It's more common than you'd hope.” Leonard sighed, letting a sleeping Jim roll closer to him, tucking him under his arm. “When I worked in the E.D, I saw a lot. I don't know why.”

Spock frowned, catching a stray hand as the blond shifted again and kissing his fingers across his knuckles. “This may be too personal, however, did your parents ever-”

“No, they didn't. Most parents don't. Frank was Jim’s stepfather and I don't know much about him, but he sounds like a real piece of work.” 

Spock tipped his head, nodding. They both watched Jim toss and turn restlessly, both preparing for a sleepless night. 

“Why aren't any of these milk run missions actually easy?” Leonard complained, gently stroking Jim’s arm. “This was a planet with no civilization or intelligent life at all. We just needed to get some soil samples. It should've been simple as biscuits. Instead, we get this.” He gestured at Jim, hoping it conveyed what he meant, the nightmares and flashbacks and the dredging up of emotional traumas. 

Spock tilted his head questioningly at his terminology. “I believe Jim would attribute it to ‘bad luck’, however, there is no place for luck in the application of science.”

“I think luck applies to Jim.”

“Against all logic, you may be correct.” Spock agreed solemnly. 

“It doesn't have to be against all logic for me to be right once in awhile.” Leonard grouched. Spock’s eyes sparkled in a smile that didn't show on his lips. 

\---

Spock woke abruptly, surprised he'd fallen asleep at all. The room was dark and quiet, with no obvious explanation for why he awoke. Something in the back of his mind was tugging at his thoughts, subtle and on the edge of perceptible. 

Beside him, Jim jerked upright, drawing a gasping breath. Spock reached a gentle hand towards him, frowning when the human flinched away from him. 

“Jim?” He asked, voice pitched low to avoid waking the doctor. “Nightmares?” He predicted. 

Jim nodded, one hand over his mouth, a physical manifestation of his emotional barricade. Spock pushed aside the emotions that welled up in him, no doubt a lingering remnant from his failed melding attempt. 

“Do you require anything?” Spock asked. Jim shook his head fervently, brimming with fear. On his opposite side Leonard, a perpetually light sleeper, opened his eyes groggily. 

“Why are you two up?” He asked, grumpily, before he realized Jim was distressed. “Darlin’, you ok?” He propped himself up on his elbow. 

Jim covered his face with both hands, trying to hide his expressions from them. He was breathing rapidly, 36 times a minute by Spock’s estimation, which was unnaturally quick for a human with no obvious signs of trauma. He said as much. 

Leonard rolled his eyes, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Jim, can you look at me?” Jim didn't answer. “Did you have nightmares?” Jim remained silent, sweating and shivering between his lovers. 

Leonard wished he could shake some sense into him, force him to see that they loved him unconditionally. The thought that Jim didn't know how to react to that sort of love because he'd never experienced it before turned his stomach. 

“I use to have panic attacks.” Jim finally whispered. “After...everything. Just…” He was rocking himself, hand clenched, nails digging into the tough skin at the heel of his hand. “Bones, I can't breathe.” He tried to keep his voice level, but it cracked in the middle of his sentence. 

Spock, in the interest of understanding humans and his own human side, had read a great deal of earth literature. And he had never, not until this very moment, understood why emotions were described with physical characteristics and attributes. 

Until Jim’s panic attack, he didn't understand how sorrow could ache and fear could cause you to feel cold. He did not comprehend how emotions could cause pain. Emotions had always been viewed as unnecessary, something he learned early on to push away. 

But watching Jim fighting to contain himself, struggling to bottle all of his feelings, it tore at something inside Spock. His head ached and his chest felt tight as he tried to sooth his young love. 

Jim bit his own hand to muffle himself. His muscles were rigid and trembling under his black sleep shirt. Even without melding, he could feel the misery rolling off of him. Spock’s eyes welled with tears as emotions surged through him. 

“Jim…” But he didn't know what to say. Even if he somehow did, he couldn't fathom how to put it into words. It was a situation beyond language entirely. Spock hugged Jim to his chest, pressing kisses to his temple. Leonard wrapped his arms around both of them, effectively sandwiching Jim between them. 

Their combined affection slowly calmed him, his muscles untensing until he was pliant and slow. Each breath was still a quivering sob, but his tears had started to dry on his cheeks. 

“I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with me like this-”

“Shut up.” Leonard cut him off. “Just...good lord, kid.” He sighed heavily; the lines on his face were more obvious, maybe from the stress, maybe from the low lighting. 

“I know, I know…” Jim wiped his face with his sleeve. “I'm-”

“If you say sorry again, I'll give you a years worth of vaccines once this is all over.” Leonard promised. “Just relax. Take some breaths. We’ll figure this out.”

“I don't know what to do. I can't repack all of this, I can't.” Jim fretted anxiously. “It's like it happened all over again. It took years last time.” 

“If I may speak for Leonard, we are both willing to help you process what has happened.” Spock said. “You are not alone in this, or anything else.” 

\---

Despite a distinct lack of sleep, Jim refused to take a day of sick leave. “And if you put me on forced medical leave, it'll look suspicious.” Jim told Leonard, arms crossed. In the synthetic light of day, he looked stronger than the night before. 

Leonard pretended to consider it before giving his reluctant approval. “Fine. ‘S not worth arguing with you about it. You'd probably sneak off and do God only knows in engineering if I banned you from the bridge anyway.” 

Jim grinned, forced and obviously fake, before departing his quarters to head to the bridge early. 

Leonard waited until the door shut before speaking. “Spock, watch him like a hawk.”

“Do you have a particular species in mind, Doctor?” Spock asked drily. Leonard looked up at the ceiling, muttering under his breath. 

“I'm serious. Watch him.”

“I intend to.”

\---

Spock did not anticipate the wave of dread that rippled up his spine and brought with it a spike of pain when he caught Jim’s eye. He kept a flat expression and the fleeting pain was gone as quickly as it had appeared. 

Jim forced a smile, a lacking imitation of his usual overconfident countenance. He broke eye contact and fidgeted with the stylus in his hand, chewing at the top.

\---

The trio had dinner together after their shift. Leonard watched as Jim picked at his food, a behavior he hadn't seen since they were at the Academy. The blond finally dropped his fork and scraped his fingers through his hair, mussing it. 

“Jim?” Leonard asked, keeping his voice neutral. 

“I can't eat. I'm not hungry.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. He exhaled slowly through pursed lips. “I'm gonna go work out.” He decided. He grabbed his tray, spilling some chili as he took it to the receptacle. 

“Is that wise?” Spock asked. “In light of recent events, going without food seems like a poor decision.”

Leonard nodded. “He’s wound tighter than a six day alarm clock. He needs to burn off some energy.” Leonard took another bite. 

“Sometimes it seems as though you use purposefully archaic phrases to mock me.” Spock said without heat, his lips quirking upward in the barest hint of a smile. 

Leonard gave him his best innocent expression. “Who, me?” He laughed before his eyes fell on Jim’s empty chair and his laughter grew hollow. 

Jim was still in the exercise room when Leonard went to find him. He was punching the heavy bag, a simple piece of equipment that was mechanized to add additional challenge to the sport. 

“Alright, looks like it's had enough.” Leonard said, loud enough to be heard over the steady pounding of fists on canvas. “Cmon, let’s go.”

Jim ignored him and Leonard sighed through his teeth, walking over and slamming the stop button. The bag ceased to move and retracted into the floor. 

“Bones!” Jim frowned at him. “I wasn't done.”

“Sure you are. I said so, didn't I?” Sometimes, it didn't do to approach something head on with Jim; sometimes you needed to come it at an angle. 

Leonard didn't tell him he needed to stop because it was time to eat something, anything, just so he wouldn't have worse nightmares. He didn't tell him he needed to stop because his knuckles were bleeding through the protective wraps; he doubted Jim could even feel the pain. He told him to stop simply because Leonard said so and, for all that Jim liked to be painted as an independent thinker and color Leonard as a control freak, sometimes Jim just needed to be told what he needed to do. 

Leonard didn't take the responsibility- or the trust inherent in it- lightly. 

“Grouchy.” Jim said under his breath, drying his face on a towel. “Where's Spock?”

“Meditating. Let's grab a bite. I need a snack before bed.” Leonard steered him back to the mess hall and procured two light sandwiches and a large chocolate chip cookie for them to share. Jim’s eyes lit up at the dessert. 

\---

Spock had finished meditating by the time Leonard and Jim arrived at his room. Jim wordlessly went to his quarters through the shared bathroom, leaving Leonard and Spock behind. 

Leonard flopped down on the bed, closing his eyes. “It's stuffy in here.” He complained. Spock sat down next to him, one hand resting beside him while the other stroked Leonard's fingers. 

“It is a suitable 80°. Vulcan was quite warm.” Spock paused, tracing his fingers across the dry skin of Leonard’s knuckles. “When I make observations of the cold, you often advise me to put on additional layers. Should I now advise you to remove layers for comfort?” His voice was deeper, richer. 

Leonard opened his eyes, smiling at him lazily. He pulled him closer, kissing his lips. It was languid, slow yet burning, verging on almost too sweet for the two of them. Without Jim, Leonard and Spock generally struggled for dominance. 

“You can do your mind thing.” Leonard said between kisses. Spock slowly raised his hand, finding Leonard’s meld points and joining with him. He kept the connection shallow, holding back a bit; Leonard didn't enjoy feeling totally engulfed in the meld. 

Spock worked his other hand under Leonard’s shirt, overly warm hands memorizing every inch he could reach. Leonard moaned into his mouth. 

Suddenly, a blindingly bright bolt of terror tore through the connection. They jolted apart. Spock’s head ached, a stabbing pain shooting through him like a phaser. 

Leonard swore loudly. “What the hell was that?”

Spock staggered to his feet, vision hazy around the edge. “Jim.” He managed. Leonard reacted quicker and more decisively while Spock tried to sort through the emotions, the pain and fear he was suddenly embroiled in. He yanked the door open.

Jim was braced on the sink over the running water, bleeding knuckles staining the surface red. His pale face was drawn, eyes squeezed closed. 

“Jim, darlin’, it's just me.” He said, hands held up in front of him in a gesture of nonaggression. “Hey, what's the matter?” 

Jim couldn't answer, arms shaking as his elbows threatened to give way. Leonard pried his grip off the sink, slowly guiding him out of the bedroom. Spock felt thick concern, wedged deep inside his brain, as he followed after. 

“Alright,” Leonard said, sitting Jim down on the edge of his bed “It's been a day. I can give you something to help you sleep. No dreams.”

Jim looked up, blue eyes shining. “Promise?” He asked, desperation staining his voice. 

“Yeah, darlin’, I promise.” Leonard drawled, native accent emerging. “I'll be right back.” He fetched his med kit and returned quickly, administering the necessary medicine. 

As the sedative started to take effect, Leonard and Spock helped Jim shed his work clothes and don his sleep apparel, tucking him under the blankets. Once he was asleep, Leonard dug through his kit for the dermal regenerator. 

Wordlessly, Spock helped position Jim’s hands so the doctor could best heal them. They continued the treatment in silence, not needing to exchange any instructions. 

Once the broken skin had been healed, Leonard finally spoke. “What the fuck, Spock? My ears are still ringing.”

“I do not believe it had a sound.” Spock said matter-of-factly. 

Leonard huffed. “Well, it was...I've never felt something like that before. And I don't want to again.”

“Indeed. It was most unpleasant, despite however useful.” He looked pointedly at Jim. 

“How...just how?”

“I have a theory, but I would rather test it before offering it as explanation.” Spock said. 

“No, screw that. Tell me.” Leonard demanded. 

Spock nodded once, curtly. “It is possible that Jim’s distress was so profound that he unconsciously reached out to me, to both of us, through a psychic bond.”

Leonard blinked at him, once, twice, three times before he could do more than let his mouth hang slack. “Like, a soulmate bond? You triggered this when you melded with him during the flashbacks, didn't you.” He accused. 

Spock shrugged. “That is the likeliest possibility.” He said reluctantly. Leonard recognized guilt in the crease between his eyebrows, the subtle flick of his eyes away to break contact. 

“Aren't those only with two people? ” Leonard felt an uncomfortable sensation in his gut; worry mounted that he may lose Jim and Spock, not on a mission, but to each other. The idea of them leaving him out in the cold-

“Vulcan bonds do not necessarily indicate romantic soulmates. It may just be a close, supportive relationship. Siblings develop them sometimes, or friends.Two is most common, however, three person bonds are not rare.” Leonard’s stomach unclenched and he relaxed. 

“Ok. Still a lot to handle on top of what happened.”

“Indeed.” Spock said, eyebrows furrowed in somber concentration. “I had thought it best the bond remain hidden from him until he has healed.”

\---

Leonard awoke in the middle of the night, a strange energy pulsing at the back of his mind. He stretched and rolled over, only to find an empty space between himself and Spock. It took a moment for the fact to sink in, but when it did, he lurched up, fully awake. Jim was gone. 

He wasn't in the bathroom or Spock’s adjacent quarters. Leonard smacked his hand against the computer display to wake it. “Computer, find James Kirk.” 

A moment later, the screen flashed his answer; Deck 6, observatory. Leonard relaxed; deck 6 was were the officers and high ranking personnel had their quarters, he hadn't gone too far. Jim often held meetings in the observatory rather than on the bridge or in the drab conference room. 

Leonard was quiet as he slipped down the hallway, finding Jim tucked in against one of the floor to ceiling viewing portals. He smiled, letting out a breath. 

“You wanna come back to bed?” Leonard asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. He feigned a casualness he didn't necessarily feel. 

Jim turned his head, face cast in shadows. He shrugged, leaning his head back. Leonard could still feel the strange pulsing at the back of his mind, presumably the bond. It was simultaneously familiar and foreign. Focusing, Leonard could recognize something about it that was innately James Kirk, but he couldn't place it. It was just something he knew. 

“Alright, darlin’” Leonard moved closer, moving slowly. Jim was on edge; he didn't need some psychic bond to tell him that. “Even Starship captains need their rest.” 

Jim cracked a lopsided grin, holding out a hand to have Leonard help him up. “Ugh.” Leonard mock groaned. “My back ain't what it once was.” 

Jim chuckled, wavering momentarily on his feet before he was steady. Leonard studied him carefully, analysing him for any sign of discomfort. The younger man shifted restlessly under his gaze. 

The bond was sizzling, sparking like a power line. Leonard could feel fear and insecurity coursing through. 

“You with me?” He asked, squeezing Jim’s hand. 

“Huh?” Jim’s eyes snapped to his, lost for a moment before he focused on him. “Uh, yeah. I'm fine.”

Leonard didn't believe him, but he knew better than to push the issue. “Well, let's get back to bed. Lord knows I need my beauty sleep.” Leonard grouched, catching another smile on Jim’s face. Leonard could act like everything was perfectly normal, he could play the role of the grumpy doctor if it helped Jim. 

“Aww, I think you're already beautiful, Bones.” Jim said lightly, a forced imitation of his usual self. 

“Good. Half these wrinkles have your name on them.” 

“Are the other half Spock’s?” Jim asked. 

“No, he has some common sense.” Leonard huffed, grinning. He could feel Jim relaxing.

Spock was perched on the edge of the bed when they returned, dark eyes impossible to read. Jim climbed back into bed without a word, drifting off to sleep between them. 

\---

The bond was strengthening; it would only be a matter of time before Jim could detect it as well. Spock suspected that the only reason he hadn't yet was because of the emotional trauma. Even during their brief meld, he had felt the damage wrought by the memories, the walls that had been torn down. 

Spock watched the captain carefully on the bridge. Even suffering as he was, his work was not impacted. He held himself with poise and confidence. Not for the first time, Spock admired his very human leadership. Jim even managed to make a few jokes, provoking some laughter from his crew.

It was all a charade though, and Spock could see through it. He could feel the anxiety ebbing through their bond. Jim was thrumming with nervous energy. Whenever his thoughts wandered, his emotions ratcheted up. Spock found Dr. McCoy during a lull in activity. 

“How are you today?” He asked, stopping in the edge of his office doorway. 

“Are you a vampire? Do I have to invite you in?” The doctor scowled at him. Spock raised his eyebrows, stepping fully in and sitting across from him. “How's he doing?”

“He is projecting an image of confidence. However, he is obviously distressed.” Spock reported. 

“Obviously?”

“Only through the bond. Can you sense it?” Spock asked curiously. Leonard shrugged his shoulders, looking uncomfortable. 

“Just when I think about it.”

Spock hummed. “Fascinating. Humans are seldom able to sense such new connections.” 

Leonard shrugged again. “He's fucking scared, I could tell that even without a bond.” He grouched. Spock’s expression softened minutely, unperceivable except to those who knew him well. 

“Yes, I agree. You are highly attuned to him.” Leonard’s cheeks flushed pink. 

“Whatever. Something I can do for you?” Spock’s eyes sparkled, almost a smile on his lips. “What?” 

“Nothing. Merely thinking.” Spock felt a loving warm sensation through the bond, reserved and tentative, but unmistakably Leonard McCoy. 

\---

Jim's first line of defense against any mental or emotional distress was to throw himself into his work. Or, as the case may, any work he could get his hands on. Spock was unsurprised, therefore, when Jim started to spend his time in Engineering when he wasn't needed on the bridge, immersed up to his elbows in the Enterprise.

Spock let it go two days without commenting on it, relishing in the calm that came over their connection when Jim was occupied. The second day, he could sense Jim’s distress, but it wasn't until Leonard’s became apparent as well that Spock thought it prudent to visit the Medbay.

Upon his arrival, Leonard was standing beside a biobed where Jim lay with a oxygen mask over his face, a smudge of oil on his cheekbone. 

“Captain, are you well?” Spock asked, stopping at the foot of his bed. Jim gave him a shaky thumbs up and a small smile. 

“He's an idiot.” Leonard said, a strong wave of fondness washing up their connection like an incoming tide. Spock glanced at Jim to see if he noticed it, but he had his eyes closed. “And he's been spending all his time in engineering and what did you just find out you were allergic to, Jim?”

“Mechanical lubrication.” Jim said, voice hoarse. 

“Lube. He's allergic to lube, so help me God.” Leonard smirked, simultaneously amused and annoyed. Jim’s cheeks flushed. 

Spock nodded. “Fascinating.” And then, because he simply couldn't resist, “Only mechanical lubrication, or recreational as well?” Leonard laughed loudly and Jim covered his face, embarrassed and smiling. 

“Guys…” He said plaintively, looking pitifully up from behind his mask. “Bones, can I get back to work? I feel a lot better.”

Leonard switched back to a serious, professional mode. “You almost stopped breathing, I'd prefer you stay here a bit.” Spock and Leonard both felt a spike of anxiety, exchanging sideways glances. 

“I'll just go back to the bridge. I have some reports to go over.” He wheedled. 

Leonard pretended to deliberate for a moment. “Fine, but if you so much as sneeze, I want you back down here.” He shot a look at Spock. “Watch him.” Jim made a show of protesting Spock ‘baby-sitting’ him before going to fetch a clean change of clothes. 

Spock shifted closer to Leonard, speaking in undertones. “He is well enough to return to work?” He asked. 

Leonard shrugged. “I don't know, but probably. He's exhausted, his vitals are a bit skewed, but...when he was having an allergic reaction, I went to move him and he panicked. I could feel it, he was just...He was so scared.”

Spock nodded. “I felt it as well, the apprehension when you considered keeping him.”

“He's never mentioned anything that would make him afraid of sick bays, but he is. He always has been, he'd never go to the hospital when we were at the Academy. I always just figured he was stubborn.”

“With his plethora of allergies, perhaps he has a simple aversion to medical facilities. Undoubtedly before you became his physician, he was exposed to many allergens, producing negative effects on his health.” Even as he said the words, an unsubstantiated feeling led Spock to believe that what he was saying wasn't the case.

\---

That night saw worse nightmares than the previous; Jim was drowning in them. Spock could feel the misery and horror leaking through the bond. He couldn't rest knowing Jim was suffering. Occasionally Jim whined in his sleep but otherwise he was fitful yet quiet. 

After an hour, Leonard woke, jolting awake. “Oh fuck…” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Is he ok?” 

“Nightmares.” Spock answered quietly. 

“I can feel them. That's new.” Leonard propped himself up on an elbow, squinting sleepily at Spock. The Vulcan could sense his concern. 

“The bond is strengthening. And he is particularly agitated.” He explained. 

“Can you do anything?” He yawned in the middle of his thoughts. 

“I could meld with him. However, it would only be a temporary solution and it could alert him to the development of our bond.” 

“Right.” Leonard frowned. “Guess we’ll just do it the old fashioned way. Jim, wake up.” He shook his arm until his eyes flew open. He yanked himself out of Leonard’s reach and was halfway off the bed before he could brush away the cobwebs of his memories and orient himself in reality. 

“Bones?” Jim asked, dazed. “Spock?” 

“Hey, darlin’. You were havin’ nightmares.” Leonard drawled. “C’mon, come here.” He held his arm out, creating a space tucked in against his chest. 

Jim pressed his lips together, trembling. His blue eyes were shining with tears in the dim light. Spock could feel a pang of anxiety. Their captain eyed them warily, thoughts swirling round his head. 

“Come ‘ere.” Leonard patted the mattress. “Let’s go back to sleep.” Jim’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them before he nodded in acquiescence and slumped into the proffered space. 

\---

Jim continued to perform admirably in his duty as captain, Spock noted. He felt a puff of pride at that, though he had a near constant ache in his ribs from the turmoil bubbling through their connection. It would only be a matter of time before Jim could detect the bond and Spock didn't think he had healed from having his darkest memories unearthed. 

Jim still filled his waking hours with work or exercise, taking it upon himself to rewire the electrical system controlling the doors. Spock could sense the moment his hands finally stilled because the bond flared up with pale blue dread. 

Spock felt both of his partners through the connection, but Leonard’s emotions were quiet compared to Jim’s ever-present distress. 

\---

A week passed, a week of little food or sleep, before Jim was too drained to work. He walked off the bridge without a word to Spock or any of his crew. Spock silently sat in the command chair, even as he felt Jim beginning to succumb to the dread. 

After his shift ended, Spock returned to their quarters, walking quickly. Spock found Jim in his bed, wrapped in blankets. He had his eyes closed tight, face streaked by tears. 

“Captain.”

Jim cracked open his bloodshot eyes. “Jim.” He croaked, correcting him. 

“Jim.” Spock nodded. “You are not well.” 

“No, I'm not.” He took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes again. “I think I'm going crazy. Everything in my head is such a mess.” He whispered. 

Spock didn't know what to say. He sat beside him quietly. Jim’s side of their bond felt raw and broken against his mind. Spock took a breath, adjusting to the discomfort. He ached to fix him, but couldn't without Jim discovering their bond. He didn't need the additional stress added to his mind. 

So, Spock sat beside him in silence, projecting a wall of calm as best he could. 

\---

Leonard pushed Jim to take medical leave when he joined him and Spock after his shift. “You need some time to rest, Jim. You're not going to feel better if you keep pushing yourself.” He started, gearing up for a fight. 

Jim nodded, shoulders tensed up to his ears. “Ok.” He agreed softly, without moving to make eye contact. 

Leonard, prepared to argue his case, sagged. “Ok?” He glanced from Jim to Spock, eyes bright with concern. 

“Ok.” He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands. His voice was a ghost of a sound. “Ok.” 

“Jim…” Leonard rested his hand on his shoulder. He could feel Jim’s pain soaking into his mind from the bond, had been tracking it all day. Spock's emotions were reserved, controlled, but Jim’s were intense and tormented, loud as he silently cried out for help. “You're going to be alright. We’re here for you.” Leonard tried to focus a surge of supportive sentiments to him through the bond. 

Spock straightened as a bolt of terror shot through the connection. Leonard flinched, pulling his hand away. Jim looked up at him, blue eyes wide and distraught. “What was that?” He asked, frightened. 

“What?” Leonard asked, pretending to be naive. Jim dropped his eyes again and laced his fingers together. 

“Nothing.” 

\---

Leonard frowned over reports at his desk, periodically glancing up to check in on his patient. Jim was stretched out on his stomach asleep on a small cot set up in Leonard’s office. He'd been sleeping for almost an hour. Their bond was strong enough that Leonard could feel the creeping fear that stitched together all of Jim’s dreams of late. It was a dull thrum at the back of his mind, something he could easily ignore. 

Leonard set down his PADD, watching him with closer attention. After Jim had agreed to taking medical leave the previous night, Leonard had felt sick; Jim had simply given in too easily. 

The queasy feeling lingered as he remembered the ease with which a nearly-mute Jim had let him steer him down to the medbay without complaint. Leonard suspected even with the bond, he had no idea the depths of Jim’s troubles. 

\---

“Uh, Bones?” Leonard startled, almost dropping the PADD he was holding. Jim was sitting up on the edge of the cot, legs crisscrossed. His hair was flat across his forehead and he looked impossibly vulnerable. “Can I ask you something?”

Leonard bit back his instinctive smartass retort (“You just did”) and nodded. “Go ahead.” 

“Do you think all that stuff…” Jim faltered, stumbling. “Do you think it could've, I don't know, knocked a few screws loose?”

Leonard set down the PADD. “It's normal to feel off balance after all that.” He moved to sit beside him, the desk creating barrier between them that Leonard couldn't stand. “I've felt a little...off, too. And the memories you had to relive aren't easy, happy ones.” 

“Some were.” Jim said softly. “Some with Sam, before…” he looked down. 

Leonard squeezed his hand tight. “I'm sorry, Jim.” Jim sighed and leaned into Leonard’s shoulder, resting his head against him. Leonard wished, for the upteenth time, he could make Jim realize how deeply loved he was now. Trying to focus on the Jim-like humming at the back of his thoughts, he concentrated on how loved Jim was, how much he loved him. It was easy to feel, even if he could never fully articulate it.

Instead of relaxing, Jim tensed and pulled away, rubbing his head. Leonard frowned; he obviously did something wrong, if Jim wasn't sensing it. It created another spike of concern- if he tried so hard and failed, how intense was Jim’s distress that it woke Leonard from a dead sleep?

\---

“I think we should tell him about the bond.” Leonard said without preface as Spock entered his office. Jim was completely asleep again, nightmares temporarily held at bay. Leonard could feel the uneasy calm, flitting memories that were neither good nor bad occupying his mind. 

Spock shook his head. “I disagree. He has expressed that he is still distressed. An additional contributing factor will not aid in his recovery.” 

Leonard bristled. “He's going to be pissed when he finds out we knew and didn't tell him. Maybe the support will be good for him.”

“You have only seen the physical scars; I have seen the psychological. He has been severely wounded. I fear any further stressor will make recovery exceedingly difficult.” Spock said without emotion. 

“That's bullshit! We could be helping him, and we’re not.” Leonard felt anger rising in his chest. 

“I do not believe it would be, in any way, helpful for him. If he cannot yet sense the bond, he is not prepared.” Spock countered. He worried the doctor’s strong emotional responses could make Jim aware of the bond before he was ready. “I will not have this conversation. You should temper your emotions. They are too heightened.” He advised. 

Leonard clenched his fists. “You won't have this conversation? He's fucking miserable and you won't have this conversation?” He could feel anxiety spiking through the connection, sudden enough to take away his breath. He continued in a whisper. “He is thisclose to totally falling apart. He needs us. Can't you feel how scared he is?”

“Of course, I can-”

“Then why don't you care?!” Leonard stood, chair falling backwards and landing loudly. Jim jerked awake with a gasp, sweating and sheet white. “Jim, you ok?” He asked, anger diminishing immediately into worry. 

Jim’s eyes darted between the two of them, short breaths hitching in his throat. He was dangerously close to breaking, the last few stitches holding him together nearly ready to pop. 

“Jim, what is the matter?” Spock asked, puzzled. The deep-seated terror was nearly overwhelming. 

The young captain’s eyes overflowed with tears and he buried his face in the pillow, course sobs jerking his shoulders in time. Leonard and Spock exchanged confused expressions as they simultaneously moved to comfort their lover. 

“Darlin’, look at me. What's the matter?” Leonard asked. 

“Jim, are you alright?” Spock questioned, their voices overlapping each other. 

Jim was utterly inconsolable, hiccuping and crying hard enough that he made himself ill. Leonard moved the basin into position at the last instant, catching the sick. Jim’s face twisted in despair, anything he was trying to say completely unintelligible. 

Their bond hurt, pain burning in their minds like a brilliant star. It was nearly blinding, narrowing their world down to a single point: Jim. 

They couldn't reach him through the thick fog he was engulfed in. Hearing, sight, even touch seemed to fail to connect them. The captain’s hands scrambled for purchase, for something to hold on to, but he couldn't seem to tell what he was searching for. 

Leonard fumbled to put together a hypo and gently pressed in into Jim’s neck. Slowly, it pulled him under and the pain faded away with his consciousness. With Jim slack in his arms, finally quiet, Leonard slouched back against the wall, closing his eyes to hold back tears. 

“Spock.” He whispered, voice rough. He didn't have the energy to finish his thought. Opening his eyes, he watched as Spock gently grasped one of Jim’s limp hands, kissing his fingers across his knuckles. The Vulcan looked up at him, eyes shimmering with tears. “We have to tell him.” 

Spock nodded. “Perhaps you are right.” He said softly. 

\---

When Jim awoke, Leonard and Spock were still sitting with him, Jim’s upper body sprawled across Leonard’s lap, while Spock occupied the desk chair he'd pulled up next to them. 

“Morning?” Jim mumbled, voice hoarse. He rubbed grit from his eyes. 

“It is 1800 hours.” Spock corrected, tone gentle and careful. 

“Ok.” Jim exhaled, closing his eyes again. “What happened?” 

“You had an extreme physical manifestation of a heightened emotional state.” Spock told him. He still had Jim’s hand in his, his thumb caressing across his knuckles. 

“What?” Jim asked, confused. 

“You lost it.” Leonard translated. “We have something we need to tell you.” 

“Ok?” Jim looked between the two of them curiously. 

Spock cleared his throat. “The three of us have entered into a psychic bond triggered by your distress after I attempted to meld with you.” 

“Like a soulmate bond?” Jim asked faintly. 

Spock nodded solemnly. “Yes.” 

Jim looked between the two of them. “You...both of you? And me?” 

“Yes.” 

Jim blinked at him before looking at Leonard. “You knew?” 

“I did.” He admitted. Jim was quiet and unnaturally still. “Jim, I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. We thought it would make getting better harder.” 

Jim sat up, removing himself from physical contact. His lips were pressed into a thin, hard line.

“It was my idea.” Spock confessed. “I determined the additional stress could make recovery more difficult.” 

Jim was silent for a long moment. “I thought I finally cracked.” He laughed maniacally, eyes bright with emotion before whispering, “I thought Kudos and Frank...I thought they finally won.”

“Jim, darlin’...” Leonard’s gut twisted with guilt. 

“I'm gonna- I've gotta get out of here.” Jim left abruptly, disappearing around the corner. 

\---

Spock was not generally subject to strong emotions. The combined swirl of his and Leonard’s guilt and Jim’s anguish left him unsure what to do. Food no longer sounded appetizing and sleep was more difficult to obtain. Spock appreciated the quietude of meditation, but pervasive thoughts made it difficult to obtain. As such, he felt restless and ill at ease. 

Jim was remarkably formal on the bridge, addressing Spock by title only, hardly even looking at him. Jim didn't have much occasion to interact with Leonard as part of his regular duties and he was intent on ignoring him completely. 

The bond had grown quieter. Spock was unsurprised that Jim was self-aware enough to learn to silence those parts of himself. Still, the point of being bonded wasn't in all involved parties holding back, but rather in opening up more. Spock felt uneasy that he had contributed so heavily to the perversion of a sacred tradition in such a way. In Vulcan culture the initiation of a bond was a thing to celebrate and yet he had failed something that was suppose to be almost instinctive. 

After his shift, Spock found himself in Leonard’s office, standing in the doorway awkwardly. 

“You alright?” Leonard asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I find that I am unaccustomed to guilt.” He said without preface. Leonard’s expression soured. 

“Ah. Yeah. How was...how did everything go?”

“Jim made no mention of any personal matter. He was exceptionally professional.”

“Shit.” Jim skirted by with as little professionalism as he could, especially with the bridge crew, often eschewing formal titles and stilted niceties. More often than not, he could be found playing cards in engineering or challenging members of the security team to hand-to-hand fights. “He didn't even mention it?”

“He did not even say my name.” Spock confirmed. 

“Oh. Well, shit.” Leonard sighed, running his hand through his hair. 

\---

More unsettling than Jim’s absence was that Jim was only physically absent; Spock and Leonard could still feel him through the bond. 

\---

A full day later, Spock and Leonard were eating together in the officers’ mess, quiet conversation drifting as they tried to avoid touchy subjects. 

Jim sat down with them, crossing his arms on the table. His tray was nearly empty, save for a scoop of ice cream in a bowl. The expression on his face was daring Leonard to say anything. 

“You should've told me.” He said quietly. 

Spock nodded. “Yes.” He agreed simply. 

“I thought I really was going crazy.” Jim confessed, taking a bite of his ice cream. “I kept feeling all these things and they weren't me...I thought I was broken.” 

“I'm sorry.” Leonard said, earnest. No amount of southern-bred sarcasm would smooth this over. “We shoulda told you.” 

“I'm not going crazy.” Jim said, though it sounded almost like a question. Leonard withheld the snide remark he wanted to make, was conditioned over years of teasing Jim to make (“not yet, anyway.”) 

“A psychic bond can be quite uncomfortable at first without the proper education.” Spock told him. “If I had known you were experiencing it, I would have been able to assist. However, I misinterpreted your symptoms as being related to your encounter with the Hruglette fly.” He paused for a breath. “Jim, I am very sorry.” 

Jim nodded slowly. “I need some time. There’s just a lot.” He kept his words vague, but they heard what he meant. There was a lot to process, the emotions of three people intertwined that needed to be unraveled and sorted. 

“You know where to find me.” Leonard told him. Jim gave a curt nod before leaving with his ice cream. “Well, that could've gone worse.” Leonard decided, forcing optimism. 

\---

Spock found Jim in the Vulcan’s quarters when he returned, empty bowl with melted ice cream residue on the floor beside him. He was sucking on the spoon, as if savoring the flavor. 

“Captain.” He greeted, tone even and unsurprised. 

“Commander.” Jim returned in the like. He didn't say anything afterwards and Spock busied himself tidying his area, putting away a stack of pristinely folded uniforms. “Ice cream was the first thing I had after Tarsus. Once they took the feeding tube away.” Jim told him. 

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Ice cream?”

Jim smiled, small but truly himself. “It was all they could get me to eat. I wasn't ready for solid food. And the puréed food made me puke.” 

“Interesting.” Spock said. 

Jim rolled onto his side to look at him. “I'm not mad at either of you. I know you were trying to help. I just...I have to figure out what was real and what wasn't.” 

Spock nodded. “I understand. Living with additional emotions is not easy initially.” 

“Are you ok?” Jim asked, eyes dark and serious as he studied Spock. 

“I am unharmed.” Spock answered. Jim chewed his lip, frowning at him. 

“That's not the same thing.” He said gently. “Did I...did I hurt you guys?” He looked genuinely horrified and Spock felt it flare up at the back of his mind, though the bond had been quieter since Jim had learned of it. 

“No. It took only a small period of time to become accustomed to your presence.” Spock assured him. “Leonard has not expressed any persisting troubles either.” 

“Ok. Thank you.” Jim left, leaving behind his sticky bowl for Spock to deal with. 

\---

It took another day for Jim to seek them out again, this time when they were together. Spock was reading scientific reports while Leonard tried to sleep away a headache that had built up behind his eyes. Spock had one hand free to trace his fingers through the doctor’s hair. 

“Captain.” Spock greeted, hardly looking up. 

“Off duty it's Jim, remember?” The blond corrected, a smirk toying at his lips. Leonard opened his eyes, blinking blearily at him. 

“Hey.” He greeted sleepily. 

Jim shifted uncomfortably and they could see the mask slipping, the false bravado falling to the side. “Can I stay?” He asked. He was still in his uniform, fiddling with the edge of the gold sleeve. 

“Of course.” Spock answered. 

Leonard scooted sideways, patting the spot beside him. “C’mere.” Jim wasted no time in stripping his command gold and cuddling in beside Leonard wearing his black undershirt. 

“I'm sorry.” Jim apologized quietly. “I know you were just trying to look out for me.”

“We should've told you right away.” Leonard kissed his forehead. 

“But-” 

“Shhh.” Leonard cut him off. “It's been done to death, Jim. Let's just drop it.” Jim nodded, accepting the words as though a direct order. He visibly relaxed, sinking deeper into the mattress and burrowed in against Leonard’s side.

“So, what does a bond do, exactly?” Jim asked, only able to really be quiet for a moment. Leonard sighed at the interruption to his return to sleep.

“A psychic bond allows those it links to communicate and connect in a most intimate manner.” Spock answered, voice decidedly bland. “Once we adjust and the bond becomes fully formed, you will be able to communicate with either of us easily.” A beat of silence and then-

“What about sex?” Jim asked. Leonard groaned. 

“I have been told that sex with one’s bondmates is the closest you can be to another person. Or two others, as the case may be.” Behind the forced flatness of Spock’s voice, and through their connection, Jim could sense an eagerness that he concealed. 

“Fuck.” Jim said appreciatively, before smiling coyly. “Hey, so-”

“Go to sleep.” Leonard growled, hugging him tightly (perhaps too tightly) to his chest. Jim smiled, because he could feel the outpouring of love behind the grouchy words. It brought warmth to his chest and helped to still his mind. 

“Later, then.” Jim decided quietly. He fell asleep basking in the glow of being cared for so deeply, so absolutely, in a way he'd never known before.


End file.
